


The cycle ends here

by baolina



Category: God of War (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Fate & Destiny, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Mercy Killing, One Shot, Patricide, Spoilers, spoilers for the whole serie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:35:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24827680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baolina/pseuds/baolina
Summary: Atreus kills his father.
Relationships: Atreus & Kratos (God of War)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 63





	The cycle ends here

The air was cold, but the ground he was lying upon was even colder.

Kratos blinked a few times, looking at the sky but not seeing anything. He didn’t hear anything either. The breeze of the wind brought a chill on his skin he hadn’t felt in a long time. It felt, for a moment, that time had stopped. He realized he hadn’t known such peace and quiet in a very long time.

His senses came slowly back to him. Pain rising up across his entire body, becoming more and more intense. He heard distant voices, but couldn’t make out what they were saying. He remembered he was fighting a battle a few moments ago, but he couldn’t really figure how it ended. He was exhausted. The sun was getting a little too bright for his eyes. He tried to raise a hand to shield his face, but his arm wouldn’t cooperate. He grunted and turned his head to the side. And then he saw.

Thor, god of thunder, was dead. He lied a few feet away from him face against the ground, in a black puddle of blood and poison. Next to him, Kratos could see the fang of the World Serpent he used to bring him down.

_There are consequences for killing a god._ The words, a dreadful reminder, came to his mind. Ragnarok came after Baldur’s death. What would come after Thor’s? Kratos recalled the plagues that befell on Greece after he slaughtered all the Olympus gods, and shame took hold of him once more . _You are just an animal, passing on your cruelty and rage. You will never change._ Freya’s words hit him harder than the first time he had heard them, and the pain in his chest grew stronger. Those last years, he fought so hard to be a better man, a better father, trying to forget the sins he carried. Ghost of Sparta, Slayer of Gods, Destroyer of Worlds… Dreaded God of War, and all the atrocities it entailed. His very nature was one of destruction, and he wondered if it was foolish of him to think – to hope – he could be anything else. _You cannot change. You will always be a monster._ Something he could never forget. Everything he has touched had turned to ashes. But he felt a vague sense of relief knowing he didn’t kill the last gods he put his hands on out of revenge, but out of love and a desire to protect. Speaking of which...

_Atreus. Where is he?_

He wanted to get up but his arms and the rest of his aching body still wouldn’t cooperate. So he turned his head around with excruciating pain and panic in his eyes.

“Atreus”, he called, his voice lower and hoarser than he thought it would be. Talking, it turned out, was harder than he expected. “Atreus, where are you? Atreus…”

“I’m here, Father”, a tiny voice answered above his head.

Kratos couldn’t see his son, but from the sound of his voice he presumed the boy was situated behind his head, close to him.

“Atreus, what happened?”

“You… you…” Atreus started, but didn’t continue.

He sounded like he was fighting back the sobs in his throat, and even though Kratos couldn’t see his face, he could imagine the trails left by tears on the boy’s cheeks. He didn’t understand why the boy was crying, but before he could ask, Mimir’s voice rose next to him.

“Seems you were knocked out for quite a while, brother. Been sleeping with your eyes open, it looked like. We called you many times, but you didn’t answer. Almost thought we had lost you…”

Mimir sounded like his usual cheery self, but some worries and sadness echoed in his last sentence.

“But… But you’re fine, right?” asked a troubled but hopeful Atreus.

Trying to ignore the pain his neck was feeling with each movement, Kratos adverted his gaze back to Thor’s corpse. He remembered some parts of the fight they had, in what felt like just moments ago, but looked like quite a while back. He recalled the clash of their weapons, the strike of thunder, the burns on his flesh, the rage in his bones. He remembered Atreus’ arrows flying and clogging the sky, Mimir’s shouted warnings and Jörmungandr’s intervention. The giant serpent fought with them valiantly, before he was struck by Thor’s powerful hammer and died of his injuries. Kratos had managed to extract one of his teeth, on Mimir’s instructions, before the Giant’s body slid back into the ocean, where it still probably remained. The rest of the fight was foggy in his memory, but he recalled he used the fang to stab Thor, like Atreus encouraged him to do. But after that…

“Thor is dead.” Kratos stated.

“That he is.” Mimir confirmed.

“I… I killed him.” Regret and guilt were starting to creep up on him again.

“He had it coming.”

“You avenged Jörmungandr, Father. And many others. You... You saved us all!”

Kratos knew his son well enough to know he wasn’t as happy and cheerful as he pretended to be. There was nothing heroic in taking a life or enacting vengeance, but Kratos said nothing. He didn’t have much strength left in him to talk needlessly.

“I cannot move.”

Whatever cheerfulness was left in Mimir and Atreus disappeared immediately. Kratos wished he could examine their faces, see what seemed to upset them, but they were both out of his sight, behind the back of his head. They were all silent for a moment, and then the head spoke.

“That’s probably… because of the poison.”

“…How so?”

“Thor stabbed you first with the World Serpent’s fang. After that, you entered in a godly rage and were able to stab him back. He died shortly after, like the prophecy foretold. But it seems like the prophecy didn’t account for you, brother. You’re still breathing.”

“For now…”

“Please, don’t say that…” the boy softly begged, as he lifted his father’s head to put it on his lap.

There, Kratos could see them both. Atreus was above him, and Mimir to his right on the ground. They looked like they had recently came out of a fire. Their charred faces looked at him with worry, and as he expected, Kratos could distinguish the fresh trails left by tears on his son’s ashen cheeks. Kratos immediately understood there was something terrible they both knew but wouldn’t tell him.

“How come I live, but Thor doesn’t?”

“Who knows, brother. Maybe it’s because you aren’t of this realm. Maybe it’s because that poison was never destined for you. Or maybe it’s because you’re… special, I suppose. You killed gods and triumphed other many challenges. You did things thought to be impossible, even for gods. You are no ordinary man, or divinity, Ghost of Sparta.”

“Do **not** call me that, Head.”

Even though his voice was weaker than usual, he managed to make it as threatening as usual.

“Sorry, brother. All I’m saying is, I don’t know why or how you managed to survive.”

Kratos grunted. So much for the smartest man alive who was supposed to know almost everything.

“Is there any way to counter the poison…? Any cure?”

Mimir looked down and Atreus’ eyes were shining with tears. Kratos didn’t need to hear them talk to have his answer.

“No, Jörmungandr’s poison is unique. There is no cure for it, I’m afraid.”

Kratos closed his eyes. His body still wouldn’t answer to his commands. All it could do was feel the cold breeze, Atreus’ furs and armor, and that burning pain. Over the years and after so many battles, he had grown used to pain. But this one was different, it was unnatural and stung absolutely every part of his body. And even though he was able to pretend he wasn’t bothered by it, he could not ignore it.

As Kratos remembered, he launched at Thor, wielding the serpent’s fang, ready to strike. But the god of thunder immediately stopped him in his track, holding his wrists. They struggled for a while, but Thor was strong, way stronger than his sons, and Kratos was an already old demi-god. He lost the grip he had on the fang and the Æsir jumped at the opportunity to seize the fang and slash Kratos’ chest, opening up a very old wound by the same occasion. Kratos then felt on his knees and looked at Atreus. The concern on his son’s face and the deep, powerful fear that Thor would put his hands on him were the last things Kratos remembered before yielding to a rage he hasn’t known in years.

It’s been a very, very long time since he took any pleasure in killing someone, but he had a slight satisfaction in knowing that he didn’t kill him in vain. He opened his eyes again and looked at Mimir.

“What is next for me?”

He was tired and resigned, and ready to accept whatever life would throw at him.

“I’m afraid you will have to live with it.”

“And never walk again?”

Mimir sadly smiled at him.

“I’m sure you’ll manage. I know I did.”

Kratos puffed.

“You expect the boy to carry us both forever? Do not be ridiculous.”

“Maybe…” Atreus spoke calmly, his face dry but still visibly upset. “The cure may not exist in this realm, but it might exist somewhere else?”

“I don’t think so, lad…”

“How would you know? You said there are some gasps in your knowledge.”

“There are, but of that I am sure. Besides, little brother, it’s like your da said. Do you plan on dragging him everywhere across the world?”

“I could leave him at home while I search for…”

“But how long would that take? Your father can’t move. He’ll die of starvation before you’ve even left Midgard.”

Kratos survived long periods of time without eating, but Atreus didn’t need to know that. The idea of being bed ridden for a long while, unable to do anything but feel pain, was intolerable for him. Besides, this would be nothing else than delaying the inevitable.

“I have to do something!” Atreus cried out.

“There is something you can do.” Kratos said.

Atreus looked at him with incredulity. Mimir gasped, understanding what Kratos meant.

“Brother, you can’t possibly mean…”

“This is the only way.” Kratos interrupted him. “The only solution that makes sense, and the one I want.”

Atreus threw glances at the both of them anxiously.

“What… What do you mean?”

Kratos sighed deeply. He hated himself for what he was going to ask to Atreus.

“I want you to end this for me.”

The tears immediately rolled over Atreus’ face as he shook his head, pleading. His hand were grasping over and over the armor on his father’s shoulders.

“No… No, I… I can’t… I won’t…”

All the pain in his body combined was nothing to the one Kratos was feeling as he saw his son crying, urging his father not to ask this of him.

Kratos knew this day would come ever since he saw that mural in Jötunheim, but he hated it all the same. All his life, he had struggled against fate, and it has always been in vain. When he saw the Giants had foretold he would die in Atreus’ arms, he accepted it. The thought of being killed by his son was terrifying him, but he never did anything to actively prevent it. He wasn’t Zeus – he would kill himself before he even thought of hurting his son. He didn’t care about dying. His only regret was knowing the cycle of patricide would continue with Atreus, that it was the heritage he was leaving to his son. _Another curse, like godhood._ The boy deserved so much better than this.

“Atreus. Atreus! Look at me!”

Atreus stopped and looked in his father’s eyes, mouth agape and tears still flowing. If he still believed in gods, Kratos would have prayed them to watch over his son. But he knew better, and gods never cared.

“I am in pain, Atreus. And I am… very tired. I have lived long. Too long. Now is my time.”

“I can’t… I can’t…”

“You can. And you will. This is what I want.”

“No…”

Atreus’ voice died in his sobs. Kratos himself struggled with speaking, the pain squeezing his throat.

“I’m sorry, Atreus.”

His son looked at him with wide eyes, unused to hearing him apologize. Kratos wished he had been a better father to the boy. He felt he had failed him. He passed his sins to his son, sins he himself inherited from his own father, and his father before him. He wondered if this was his punishment for the atrocities he committed. This was certainly the kind of irony that fate love. He didn’t mind being punished, he knew he deserved it, but the boy… The boy was sensible, and smart, and kind, and better. So much better than him and any gods that came before them. And he would be left alone in this cold and uncertain world, carrying all those curses he should have never had.

Kratos could feel anger build up within him, but he silenced it. Now was not the time, and there was nothing he could do anyway.

“Please, Atreus…”

Atreus cried silently for a long while. Neither Mimir nor Kratos said anything, leaving him all the time he needed to make peace with this decision. Then, slowly, he nodded.

Kratos exhaled. The time had come. He looked at Mimir for the last time.

“Goodbye, friend.”

“Rest well, brother. Might see you soon enough.”

Kratos looked back at Atreus, his eyes locked on his son’s.

“I am ready.”

Atreus nodded again, and opened his mouth. He started speaking in a language Kratos still didn’t understand.

Since he knew he had godly and Jotun heritage, Atreus had been developing all kind of new abilities, but his linguistic powers were without a doubt among the most impressive. He was able to understand any kind of language, conversing even with souls and spirits. But recently, his powers had taken a new form, and he was able to use some sort of magic by reciting what Kratos understood to be spells. Atreus tried to explain to him it was more akin to rituals and asking favors to spirits, but his explanations were lost on Kratos. Mimir, on the other hand, understood them perfectly.

Kratos didn’t exactly know what his son was doing, but he was starting to feel the pain slowly leave his body and understood it was Atreus’ doing. The boy was resourceful and never failed to impress his father, even if the latter seldom showed it. With each passing day since they had taken Faye’s ashes to Jötunheim, the father had grow prouder of his son. Kratos couldn’t help but smile as he felt more and more comfortable.

“Close your eyes, Father. This will be over soon.” Atreus whispered.

His father looked at him in the eyes for the last time. Though he didn’t feel any pain anymore, he still struggled to talk.

“I am very proud of you. And I hope… I managed to make you proud, too. That I were a worthy father to you.”

Even though he was still crying, Atreus smiled at his father.

“I guess you could say you were… adequate.”

Father and son softly chuckled. Kratos scrutinized the smiling face of his son, wanting it to be the last thing he saw and remembered before he departed. Satisfied, he closed his eyes and exhaled, waiting for his soul to finally be free. This wouldn’t be the first time he died, but this was the most peaceful death he could have ever hoped for.

Atreus wasn’t like him, and for this exact reason, Kratos was certain he would be fine. As he was sluggishly falling asleep, Kratos realized that even Atreus’ patricide was different from his own. Where Kratos, and Zeus and Cronos before him, committed this mortal sin out of revenge and greed for power, Atreus did it out of love and kindness. He wasn’t vicious like his predecessors, and though he apparently enacted the same crime, fulfilling that dreaded prophecy, he did it as an act of mercy. Atreus himself probably didn’t realize it, but Kratos knew, and he felt asleep with a lighter heart.

_The cycle ends here._

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever work in English! This is not my first language, so please, feel free to comment and give me corrections and/or ways to improve. Any feedback is welcome!
> 
> If I had it my way, Atreus and Kratos would hug and say they love each other haha, this is what I really wish for them. But I wanted to stay in character as much as possible and reproduce that subtle way they show affection to each other. I feel like God of War (2018) is a game about many things, but mostly about the struggle fathers face when they try to relate to their sons and express their emotions (toxic masculinity, you know the drill).  
> When I started writing, I wasn't sure if Atreus should cry, but then I remembered the boy is way less emotionally constipated than his dad, haha. Like it is said in this fic, he is better - he is not afraid to show his emotions and be who he is.
> 
> Thanks for reading


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